Neptune's Oyster
by shootingstella
Summary: Tate takes advantage of the holiday and surprises Violet. Rated F for Fluffy! Exchange story for PaceYourSelf.


Gift fic for PaceYourSelf who loves Tate, Violet and fluffy adventures.

Author's Note: The title is the name of a restaurant on Salem Street in Boston Mass. Go there for the best Lobster Roll of your life.

* * *

_I think I need a new town, to leave this all behind. I think I need a sunrise, I'm tired of sunsets._

Tate's arm wrapped around Violet a little tighter as the cold eastern breeze blew a chill through both of their bodies. Violet smiled and scooted closer to him, not for the warmth though. She reveled in the feeling of the cold wind almost as much as she reveled in the feeling of him pressed up against her.

It was eleven thirty on October 31st and their day of freedom was drawing to an end. Violet looked up at Tate and smiled, remembering the way his bright eyes and toothy grin had managed to get her out of bed at 3:20 am that morning.

He took her hand in his; the same strong hands that had blind folded her as soon as their bus came to a stop and led her along by his side for what seemed like forever, until they finally reached their destination. Well, not quite their destination, but it was the point in their journey where the destination became obvious and Tate could no longer getaway with having both a willing kidnapping victim and a carryon without raising serious suspicion from the TSA.

He had untied her blind fold and laughed as she was plunged into sensory overload. It was an expression he hadn't seen often, being stuck in that monotonous house. But now she was spinning around and around and moving her mouth like a fish, no words escaping.

She told him on the plane that no words would have been able to justify her feelings; her surprise, and her gratitude. That was when she gave him her best 'come follow me' look and attempted to her express her feelings, without words, in the cramped airplane bathroom at 50,000 feet over the mid-west.

He had returned to his seat first, and by the time she caught up with him, the goofy smile was still stuck on his face.

When they stepped off the plane it was only 10:30 am and they had the whole day in front of them. After a short train ride, they pulled into a station that Violet knew like the back of her hand.

Now it was her turn to lead him around by the hand.

* * *

Every few blocks they traveled, she would squeal and remember a place that they just needed to go.

Like the place that made the best lobster rolls for lunch or the vintage store that she and her mother had met half way in. Violet remembered sighing over her mother's idea of female bonding and Vivien sighing over her daughter's idea of color.

She dragged Tate in with her and bought a new/old sweater. Tate laughed at her when he saw that it was a man's sweater, and pointed it out to her like she hadn't known. But she knew, the sweater was for Tate, although she did plan to steal it every other day. Tate shook his head at her silliness, but didn't protest. He was too busy filching a little something from a large silver bowl of antique rings. Violet didn't notice that because she was too busy blushing and furrowing her brow as the shop keeper tried to figure out where he knew this all too familiar girl from.

They were gone a minute later and Tate asked Violet where she used to live. She dragged him down a side street and up a winding hill to a small white house. It looked clean and mildly utilitarian and Tate couldn't imagine her living there.

When Violet was done staring at the house; the only normal thing she had ever loved, they turned and walked back down the hill.

They walked until the sidewalks turned into grass and they reached a little park ringed with trees.

Tate lifted Violet up on his shoulders so she could pick the orange and purple leaves that hadn't crumpled yet. She planned to press them between the pages of her father's big medical text books until they dried and then she was going to pin them to the wall above their bed.

By the time she was done picking all of the prettiest leaves, and Tate's shoulder muscles were screaming from carrying her around, it was four thirty and light was beginning to change.

"Any requests for tonight?" Tate asked as he pulled Violet up against him.

"Well it is Halloween... maybe we should take a cab into the heart of Salem and see ourselves a show."  
Tate smiled, looking forward to an adventure.

When they hopped out of the car, they were immediately faced with a colorful mob of elaborately dressed characters that ranged from whimsical to reverent. Tate and Violet mingled with the crowd, happy to just people watch. Tate tried very hard to not be distracted by a particular topless Wiccan showing off her body paint, but Violet gawked shamelessly.

The rows of shops were spilling out onto the sidewalks; thick colorful smoke perfumed the air and music was coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.

An old woman with a hooked nose and a crystal ball was sitting at a small table amidst the madness and Tate had pointed her out to Violet, the woman caught their eyes and waved them over.

There was a sign next to her that read ten dollars for a reading.

Tate reached into his pocket to hand the woman some crinkled bills but she shook her head. "Free for you dearies, I'm sure there isn't much I could surprise the two of you with anyway."

Tate and Violet glanced at each other as they each pondered the legitimacy of the seer in front of them.

The woman motioned for them to sit as she wafted a stick of burning incense in between them and then over her crystal ball.

She giggled to herself in a way that contradicted her physical age, "We don't get many like you two, even around these parts. How would you like to start? Palms?"

Violet nodded holding her hand forward and smiling.

"Hmmm… deep love line, very strong. Thank goodness for his sake yes?" she said with a throaty laugh.

Violet laughed out loud as Tate became intensely interested in his shoes.

"Head line; stubborn. Life line; irrelevant," she smirked as she picked up Tate's hand it end to end with Violets.

"Those are the three well-known lines, the ones any charlatan can read. But my personal favorite; is a little less appreciated, this one." She grasped their wrists in one hand and reached for a marker with the other. She drew a thick black line over each of their palms with a marker, filling a particularly deep grove that ran from the top of their wrists to the base of the middle fingers.

"This is the fate line. Everyone has it, but yours, are particularly deep. I've seen it be broken, and crooked but these, they are solid and strong. And they intersect with each of your other three lines, trumping everything else. Your head," she looked at Tate. "Your heart," she looked at Violet, "and both of your lives."

The witch had a firm grip on both of their wrists and pressed their palms together with a smile.

"Would you like your cards read?" she asked as she withdrew a deck from the folds of her robes.

Violet shook her head as she interlaced her fingers with Tate's, letting their hands drop from the table.

"Nothing else then?"

"I guess not," Tate shrugged as Violet rose from the table and began pulling him along with her.

"Thank you!" she called, spinning around to face the old woman again, who simply winked at the teenagers as they disappeared into the crowd.

"You had enough?" he whispered in her ear as they continued down the street.

"We know the rest," she smiled up at him.

He dropped her hand to wrap his arm around her shoulder.

They kept walking for a while, occasionally ducking into shops that seemed promising. When the sun set, a cold breeze swept through them and they picked up some hot coffee and a bag of cookies to share as they walked. The busy streets were thinning out as they walked and the lamp posts were becoming fewer and further between.

The atmosphere was even darker now but the moon was out and there was soft music wafting through the air from a distant festival.

"I can't believe we wound up here..." she whispered.

The 'here' where they wound up, and had been sitting for the past few hours was Violet's own stretch of beach. It was different than the beaches on the West Coast; a barely sanded Warf, with an equal mix of sleek fishing boats and massive ships, as old as The Murder House anchored to its docks.

This was where Violet had come when her own world got too small and she couldn't breathe. She would have told Tate about it that Halloween so many years ago, but things had gotten weird and then things had gotten worse. She had spent years with a tightness in her chest, years when thoughts of this piece of coast were the only thing she had to keep her anywhere near sane. She had longed to be here, hoping that just the peacefulness would be able to grant her a moment's reprieve from the shouting in her head and her heart. But now she was sitting here, with nothing but the darkness and the crash of the waves and she couldn't help but laugh because she honestly didn't need it anymore. She had Tate's arms around her waist and he had her heart back. The space and the time in between that first Halloween on the beach and this Halloween on the beach disappeared as quickly as the space between their lips.

Tate wrapped his arms around her, laying her back onto the cool grass so that he could cover her with himself. Violet deepened the kiss and he pressed into her. He felt her smirk as she reached down to grasp him in her hand. He propped himself up to look down at her, slightly surprised.

"Tate. I want to" she said, he voice dripping with satire and deja vu.

The clock struck midnight and cool earth between his fingers turned into the plush material of their own bed. He smiled down at her, so happy that they had finally moved past the days of turning each other down.


End file.
